


I want your midnights...but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

by ultrafreakyfangirl



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M, its only underage for a tiny mention of teacher/student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrafreakyfangirl/pseuds/ultrafreakyfangirl
Summary: Addek through NYE. :) AU. AU, AU. Just so y'all know that it's pure Addek. Total canon-divergence. No Seattle. Happy NYE! :) P.S. LOVE the Addek surge these days. All these fics are great! :)
Relationships: Addison Montgomery/Derek Shepherd
Kudos: 2





	I want your midnights...but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

**_New Year's Eve 1991_ **

All Addison wanted to do was go back to her dorm and get ahead on her readings for after the winter break. Medical school waits for nobody. But then her roommate came bouncing into the common area with her blonde hair, push-up bra, leather skirt, knee highs and practically begged her to come out tonight. And she was going to say no, she was, _really_ , but then Savi mentioned that the guy she was sort of-kind-of seeing, Mark, had a friend. _A tall, dark, and handsome_ friend, to be any less of a cliché. And Addison shrugged, as if she couldn’t care either way, which she didn’t, and went back to her textbook.

So, it was a mystery how Savi got her to change out of her Harvard sweatshirt and jogging pants, to curl her hair and put on an itty bitty black dress and some crocodile heels. More than that, she got her into a taxi, made sure her lipstick was straight, and put a martini in her hand. _‘Dirty’_ Savi winked at her before taking one herself, and before she could even come up with a response to that, and Addison was never short on those, Savi was pulling her over to some semi-secluded table furthest from the dance floor.

At that table, there were two men, and even though they were only twenty-three, she did mean _men._ Addison was surprised to learn they were only a year older than her and Sav. Mark was just as attractive as her friend had described, a subtle salt and pepper accent to his hair and she wondered what from – dye? Genetics? Either way, it did him favors, but his friend, Derek, now _he_ took her to a whole other world. To be any less of yet another cliché. 

A world where she would maybe consider making out with boys in bars and having sex in the bathroom stall; a world where she would go out more often, drink a little more, wear the pleated skirt from her prep school days, without the nylons, and maybe without the underwear, too. A world where her wit was matched with that oh-so-confident smile, demure not in the likes of his vocabulary. _Derek Christopher Shepherd._

_After his dad_ , or so he told her, head in his hand while he stared at her like she was the only woman in the room, and she had a feeling he was going for _enchantmen_ t, or at the very least, _disbelief_ , disbelief that he was even real, let alone talking to her. However, she wasn’t going to give it to him, not that easily. He didn’t deserve it. Could he have her affection by sending gin martinis her way all night, _maybe_ , but it was only eleven, so she told him he _shouldn’t be feeling so lucky_. He said _he wasn’t_ , that he was _just talking_ to her and he _couldn’t see the harm in that_ and so she shrugged her shoulders. Absolutely fully aware that the spaghetti strap of her dress was falling down her shoulder. And it wasn’t until it happened, when he leaned over, ever so slightly entering her personal space, to push it back up, that she’d realized she’d been holding her breath.

_Derek Shepherd._

Hours later, after probably four too many drinks, he helped her put on her coat. As the cool air nipped at her cheeks, she felt herself shiver, which sent her off balance and into his chest, which she would probably be much more embarrassed about if she weren’t a nice kind of drunk that made everything around her feel not so bad. Even her apology was late. He had to say something first.

“Woah there, pretty girl. You’re a little off your game tonight, huh?”

She wasn’t sure she could even argue with that. The gin was making everything fuzzy, like she was floating on a bed of gin-soaked clouds, and YSL cologne. Her brother wore the same scent, she knew it from a mile off, and right now, she was feeling strangely safe, and nothing was stopping her from curling up against his gaudy tweed jacket and allowing herself to drift off to sleep. Suddenly she was _exhausted._ The kind of exhausted she felt after finally finishing a big exam. Like nothing else mattered anymore but sleep and –

“Where did you go now, pretty girl? _Hm?”_ Derek chuckled good naturedly and brushed his hand along her hip. “You seem miles away. You’re pretty drunk, Addison. We should get you back to your dorm.”

_Pretty girl._ She likes it, she thinks. She really likes it. The way he says it. She wished he would keep calling her that. _Addison_ seemed so boring in comparison. There was no spark. And in order to like a guy any, she needed sparks.

“Hm…what _?_ No more _pretty girl?_ Where’s Savi?”

Again, he laughed. And she liked when he did that. He’d done it quite a lot tonight. She kind of loved his laugh. She kind of loved the way it was mysterious, but warm, and easy to figure out, all at the same time. It’s like he tries to not let you in on the joke but then the twinkle in his eye betrays him and then before you know it you’re laughing too and then the bar rings in the new year and _you’re kissing,_ elbows on the middle of the table, his hands holding your face –

“Savannah’s with Mark. They left a little while ago. You remember, don’t you?”

She did. She remembered perfectly. It was after their kiss, when Savannah tapped her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear to _be good tonight,_ and that she would see her in the morning. Which _meant_ …which meant she wouldn’t be back to the dorms tonight.

She nodded once. “Derek?”

He blinked at her, obvious relief on his face. He was glad she remembered. She figured he didn’t want to feel like a bad guy. And he wasn’t. Derek Shepherd was most definetly _not_ the bad guy. His friend Mark on the other hand…Savi had her work cut out for her with that one. But she felt lucky. Not that she would tell him that.

“Taxi’s here, pretty girl” he said, ushering her into the open door with a light touch on her back.

It was cute, that he felt the need to coax her inside the car, but it was probably because he figured she couldn’t do it herself, and that mildly annoyed her.

When he tried to help her with her seatbelt, she grumbled. “I can do it myself.”

He smiled at her, one meant to placate but only further made her lose patience. Which was probably also its intention. She’d only known him a few hours, but she thought she had a pretty good read.

“I know. But a woman shouldn’t have to do all the work.”

She scoffed. “You’re an idiot.”

“Correction. I’m not _just_ an idiot.”

“What else are you then?” 

“ _Well_ , pretty girl, why don’t you go on another date with me and find out.”

He just smiled again; that enraging smile that made her want to smack him, hard, and kiss him until their lips were chapped _._ It was then she realized, seconds too late, that he didn’t phrase it as a question.

_Oh, hell._ She was going to _kill_ Savi.

**_..._ **

**_New Year's Eve 1992_ **

They went to the same bar, sat at the same table. Mark and Derek had both taken their intern tests that day and needed to let off some steam. They danced to all the fast songs, they made out to all the slow ones, his hands moving farther and farther down her waist as _Why Don’t You Do Right_ played on and by the beginning of the next song they were having sex in the woman’s washroom – she’d pulled him in left before he could pull her to the right.

It was fun. She wore bright red lipstick and wore her hair straight, and he left his hair dishevelled and the top two buttons of his dress shirt undone, because who the fuck wore a dress shirt to a college bar, but she kind of liked it. They got drunk on Grey Goose and ate cocktail olives for dinner.

She couldn’t have asked for a better night. Until he called her Daphne. _Daphne, really?_

“Like the chick from Scooby Doo!? You have _got_ to be kidding me. Do you want me to call you Fred, too?”

“No!” he exclaimed. “No, like Daphne Ashbrook.”

“Oh dear god,” she groaned. “Why does that make it _worse_. Nerd alert,” she teased him with a roll of her eyes.

“Fine.” He sulked for a few seconds, which made her smile. Victory. “What do you want your name to be, then?”

She thought about it for a minute. Put a finger on her chin, all dramatic and bookish. “Ava.”

“Like Ava Gardner?”

Addison smirked, patted his hand, once. “Exactly like that.”

“Then I’ll be Frank”

She laughed. “Like Sinatra. How creative.”

It was his turn to smile. “I’m just playing the part, pretty girl.”

It was new, the roleplay. A creative outlet of sorts. It livened up the sex, some, but that also could have been because they’d decided to do it in some dark corner of the bar – him hiking her dress up, his jeans hugging his torso, her back against the wall. It was all so _Hollywood._

They rang in the new year like that, pressed against each other and depleted. He kissed her tenderly on the mouth.

“Happy New Year, _Addison Forbes Montgomery_.”

“Happy New Year, _Derek Shepherd_.”

**_..._ **

**_New Year's Eve 1996_ **

He’d written her a song. Derek Shepherd had written her a god damn song. And sure, he’d sang it to her at their November wedding. She was sitting there, in front of him, outside with the trees baring the last of their autumn leaves, wind in her hair, absolutely shocked, balling up her fists inside the sleeves of her crème peacoat because it was _stupid_ cold – what were they _thinking_ , having an outdoor wedding – and because she needed to do _something_ to stop herself from punching him in his stupid, perfect face.

It was so embarrassing. And she hated every minute of it. Her family was here. His family was here, and when she heard Archer snickering in the first row she wanted to _die._ But he’d kept on singing, singing, and smiling, and laughing at himself because _by god, it was such a dumb song,_ but it was sweet, he was sweet, so, so, sweet, and she loved him so much; so she stood up from off of her chair, bent down to where he was, took his face in her hands, not unlike he did the first time he kissed her, and planted her lips on his.

She heard someone _whoop_ from the congregation, probably Mark Sloan, and then begin to complain because he wanted to hear the rest of the song, because _apparently,_ Derek hadn’t gotten to the part where he talks about her _fine ass._ She was sure the Captain would just _love_ that line in particular.

He did eventually finish the song for her, that night when they were laying on the king bed of their honeymoon suite in Bali. She was wearing a bikini and sunglasses on top of her head, and he was shirtless, smelling heavily of alcohol and salt from the ocean, so it wasn’t really the same, and he still couldn’t make it through the song without laughing, but at least she finally got to hear the part about her ass. Which he playfully smacked for good measure. And that was when she learned that sex in Bali was much, _much_ better than sex in Boston.

She wasn’t sure what exactly was triggering that memory now, here, at the same old bar, on that same old dance floor. Maybe it was because it was the only time he’s ever sang to her, other than right now. Because right now, they were swaying back and forth, and he was crooning the _Boys II Men_ lyrics in her ear. _“And I’ll hold you tight, baby all through the night…I’ll make love to you, like you want me to…”_

It was cheesy, so _unbelievably cheesy,_ but she was falling for it, and she would fall for it every time because this was _Derek_ , this man was the love of her life; he was her _one._ She just _knew._ There was no explaining it away and with his mouth so close to hers, the whisper of those sultry lyrics felt against her cheek, all she wanted to do was just angle her face a little further to the left and kiss him; she didn’t have to _explain_ anything. So she did. And she didn’t. And her world felt upended. And then just like that everything fell into place. It was magic. _They_ were magic.

_Three…two…one… **my god…**_

“Okay you two.” Mark said, pulling her back from Derek, a little low on the waist, which Derek most definetly noticed as he glared at his friend. “Make out on your own time. Let’s go get drunk.”

Come on, he had to know that Mark was just _Mark,_ that he wasn’t serious about anything, or any girl, let alone _her;_ but something about Derek believing that Mark could be a potential threat had her on high alert. It kept her on her toes. It was _fun._ Especially when Derek took her back without permission and bruised her lips with his kiss.

“Okay,” Derek finally allowed them both to come up for air and he immediately put distance between them, sending her staggering back a bit. She loved knowing what she could do to him. And without even trying. “Now we can go get drunk.”

“Hey, hey!” Mark hollered in celebration, deftly making his way to the bar, and ordering two rounds of tequila shots. “And make em doubles,” he told the bar manager.

“Okay, I _cannot_ drink that much,” she laughed, leaning generously on Derek’s arm for support. “Do you want to kill me, Mark Sloan?”

Mark turned to stare directly at her. And not that she would ever think of him in this way sober, but right now she couldn’t help but notice the way the salt and pepper of his hair matched the salt and pepper of his stubble and it was reminding her of her high school lit professor, and it was almost _striking._ Not that she ever did anything with her literature professor that she would ever admit to… _on that big, opulent desk, him watching her over top of his professor-type glasses, that weren’t real, he’d confessed to her, he just wanted his student’s to take him seriously, for **Addison** to take him seriously, and to never question his authority because he’s only in his 20s and it’s just a mere seven years…_

“I would never, pretty girl. You’re too gorgeous to kill.”

Addison stopped cold, the shot glass halfway to her lips. From over the brim, she could see her husband’s best friend fixing her with a wolfish smile…and when she turned to look at Derek, he was giving Mark a look that said he meant business, that said _you won’t be able to get to her because I might just kill you first._

It’s unfortunate that the three of them ended up getting way past the point of drunk. It’s unfortunate because the look Derek had given Mark, and then her, a look that said _don’t you cross me too_ sent tingles erupting down her spine. What she wanted to do when they got home was give her husband the sex of his life but in reality what happened was they fell into bed in an unceremonious mess of booze, clothes and a murmured _I love you_ that wouldn’t even be considered words by the legal definition, not if they couldn’t read each other like the backs of their hands.

She hoped he forgot what Mark had said tonight. She certainly wanted to. The words had no business being in his mouth. None whatsoever.

**_..._ **

**_New Year's Eve 2000_ **

“Congratulations, Addie,” Mark patted her on the shoulder, friendly, sweet, and handed her a beer.

She took a swig and rested the bottle on the coaster placed in front of her, just as Derek swooped in and placed a kiss in her hair. “How’s my favourite resident doing?”

Addison smiled. “Not too shabby. I’ve got my two favorite boys, a cold _Guinness_ in my hand and a shiny new title.”

Derek narrowed his eyes just an increment and kissed her cheek twice over so that the smacking sound echoed practically throughout the bar. “I’m your husband,” he whispered to her. “This tool’s just along for the ride.”

“That _tool_ is your best friend since you were kids, Der. Who am I to get in the way of the relationship?”

She laughed and so did he, but it was mild, half-hearted, almost. “ _You_ are the most important person in the world to me, pretty girl.”

“Hey,” she took the bait, and threw in a little giggle because she damn well could. “No questions were asked here.”

He nuzzled her neck and purred softly into her ear. “I’m happy we have an understanding, _Mrs. Shepherd._ ”

“There was never any confusion. And it’s _Doctor_ Shepherd to you, _husband_ ,” she teased and squealed when she felt him pinch the exposed skin of her thigh.

“Damn,” she muttered, rubbing where her thigh was no doubt blossoming red. “I should have left those scrubs on. It would have kept my legs away from your crabby claws.”

“ _Hm…”_ he hummed against her neck, knowing that it was something she went absolutely crazy for. She shivered, unable to stop her body’s innate reaction. It got a rise out of him. “Better yet, I think this dress should come off.”

Derek inched the material of her dress up her thigh little by little, still breathing against her neck. “What do you think, Addie?”

“Der…” she trailed off, shutting her eyes, and hoping to regain some fucking composure from earlier.

“I think this little thing should come off in front of the whole bar…in front of _Mark_ …and he can watch me screw you speechless…”

“ _Derek!”_ she hissed, opening her eyes, and casting a covert glance across the bar, but luckily the man in question was talking up some girl much too young for him, hell, she looked much too young for this _bar_. Mark had better watch himself.

“He can watch me, _watch us_ , that _jealous prick_ …” he continued on, mauling her neck now, no more teasing, gone was being gentle. “Is he watching us now?”

Against her better judgment, Addison made sure Mark was still occupied and nearly sighed with relief. As much as she loved Derek’s possessive, jealous, streak, this was getting a little uncomfortable. He had to know that.

“No.” she answered him. “So you can stop now. This PDA is a little much, Derek. Joe’s is packed tonight.”

He pulled back from her and looked around, seeing what she saw. “ _Hm_ , I hadn’t noticed.”

“ _Bullshit_ you didn’t notice,” she shot back, recognizing that same old impish tone of his that made her heart beat tenfold, and her fists come in contact with his chest (in some hormonally induced instances) because _Christ,_ did he make her mad sometimes; and it’s a big part of why she loves him. “Wait until we get home, Dr. Shepherd… _please.”_

And since the rage she _sometimes_ feels towards him is why she loves him, she makes good on that promise. If she thinks about it too hard, the anger thing might be a little fucked up, and she could probably trace it back to the Captain and her childhood, but she didn’t want to do that. Not now. Not ever. _God,_ _especially not now_ , when her legs are on his shoulders and he’s _tongue deep_ inside of her. All she wants to focus on is how fucking amazing it feels to have him want her. How special it is. _Derek. Fucking. Shepherd._

If the orgasm she just had was any sort of a ringing endorsement for the new year, then _cheers to a new fucking decade._

**_..._ **

**_New Year's Eve 2006_ **

Addison was overdue. Overdue and _miserable_. Her feet were swollen so badly she could barely fit socks on them, let alone slippers or a decent pair of shoes – she’d said farewell to Christian Louboutin months and months ago, now. She would give anything to be in labor right now. Literally _anything._ She sighed as she felt the pads of Derek’s thumbs pressing into her belly, attempting to massage the stretch marks that were causing her pain these days.

“You know, I would really love it if this stubborn _Little Miss_ of ours would come out now.”

“She’ll come out when she’s ready. She’s as stubborn as her mother.”

“Fuck you,” she said to him, her gaze towards the TV where the ball drop festivities were well under way. Bon Jovi was preforming. Jon Bon Jovi was hot. He could fuck her _any day_. _Mm._

“Addie,” Derek lightly admonished her as the skin of her stomach rippled. “No foul language in front of Little Miss.”

In response to him she crossed her arms over her chest, pointing with intent towards the screen. “I wish Jon Bon Jovi were my husband. _He_ wouldn’t harass me about what language I decide to use while 40 weeks pregnant and 5 _fucking_ days.”

“Oh, _Addison_ …” Derek cooed, nipping, and not-so-gently, on the cartilage of her ear. “No you don’t.”

“ _Yes_ I do,” she challenged him, though she leaned into his ministrations, encouraging him to keep going, to not even _think_ about stopping. “You just _know_ he’s _one hell of a man_ in bed…”

“And what am I?” he spoke lowly. “Chopped liver?”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short like that, baby…” she said, her voice silky, smooth, _seductive._ She gasped when those _god-like_ hands found their way between her legs and she warmly invited them to stay longer.

“ _Mm…”_ she moaned, tipping her head back against the couch cushions and relaxing into it.

As if by natural instinct, she began to slowly move her hips to meet his hand and when he pushed his fingers delicately inside of her she moved even slower, and it was as much to torture herself as it was to do it to him. She shouldn’t have said that. She’d make herself regret it.

“I’m – I’m going to – “

She breathed out twenty or so minutes later, an agonizing process but she was finally there.

“You’re going to what, baby?” he asked, and then she felt it. This was happening. Right now. She was supposed to get induced on the second, but –

“Addie did you just…”

“No!” she exclaimed in, honestly, horror because – just – _no_ – and then laughed. She grabbed her husband’s face in her hands and stared him down. Those beautiful, _beautiful_ , eyes. She would never stop loving those eyes. “ _Baby_ , we’re having our baby.”

“Oh _thank god_ ,” Derek laughed. “Wait – what? Say that again. She’s coming!? You’re in labor!?”

She wasn’t feeling much yet, and with her ample experience in the field it was momentarily concerning to her, until a crushing pain nearly made her faint. “Yeah, yep. That’s _definetly_ a safe bet. Derek, you have to get me to the hospital – _now_.”

…

Dark hair, fair skin, light eyes. An angelic little beauty, she is. Addison grinned tiredly at him. She was feeling absolutely drained but the obstetrical miracle of childbirth never ceased to amaze her, and this was her; _her_ body, _her_ will, _her_ strength, _her_ perseverance, it was all _her_ and she knew in the seconds after it was all over that she would never, not in a million years, experience anything _this visceral_ in the whole of her career.

To top it off, she had the best man by her side through it all. “She looks just like you, Derek.”

There was no contention from him because how could there be? “I love you, Addie. You were a rock star tonight. I could never dream to do what you just did.”

“Flattery. Good choice.” She laughed, but it was raspy, and she closed her eyes for a minute. She had to pull herself together before she could speak again. Forbes-Montgomery women don’t cry. She let out a shaky breath. But she was a Shepherd now _so screw it._

“She’s the first baby of the New Year. Of _course_ she is. Barely an hour old and already setting gold-star achievements.”

“That’s our girl,” Derek smiled back at her, pressing their foreheads together, and if she cared enough right now, she’d be thinking about how hers was all hot and clammy. The point was, is that _she didn’t._ Not right now _._ The only, single, solitary thing that mattered…

“That’s our girl,” Addison echoed.

She looked down at the baby in question on her chest; those ivory cheeks once ruddy from crying now just tinted with rose, and those long, gossamer lashes, the kind that won awards, the kind for which she had the Shepherd genes to thank.

“Maisie Amelia Shepherd, please know _baby girl_ that you are so, unbelievably, unconditionally, loved.”

**_..._ **

**_New Year's Eve 2011_ **

“I’m going to go wake her.”

Addison scoffed at him and used her arm to block him from moving off of the couch. “You are not.”

“Yes, I am,” Derek countered, reaching for the hand that was blocking him and taking it in his. “And you are going to come with me.”

She smiled and he squeezed her hand he was holding. Together, they stood up, letting the blanket they had been cuddled under together fall to the floor. They walked down the quiet hallway, their shadows casting along the wall by the force of the Tinkerbell nightlight projecting from the room at the end of it.

There she was, cocooned under the bedsheets, her duvet half off of the bed and on the floor. One arm was above her head and the other was held softly against her chest. In the dark like that, she looked like Snow White, dark hair abound, pale face with her bowed lips and the sleight of her cheeks, scrunched up as if in a dream.

She was _their_ dream. Their sweet Maisie. _Five years old_ , five years old in exactly – Addison checked her watch – one minute.

Derek gestured for them to come closer to her bed and once there, they waited with bated breaths. _54, 53, 52, 51…_

When the digital clock on her bedside table finally ticked to 12:05, Addison gently shook her petite shoulder. There were a few mumblings before Maisie turned over and opened her eyes. Even in the dark, she could see the confusion within them. “Mommy? Daddy?”

“Hey there, my sweet girl,” Derek whispered, kissing the top of her head. “Guess what – it’s 12:05 in the morning, on January first, 2011.”

Maisie’s eyes brightened. “It’s my birthday!”

“Not only _that_ , but it’s your fifth birthday, Mai! You’re five! Such a big girl,” Derek said, and sure, he may have sounded a little dopey, but he was just so enamoured with their daughter; Addison could see it shining through in every piece of him. And it was beautiful.

Addison hugged her next once Derek let her go, kissing her cheek. “Happy fifth birthday, Maisie Moo. I love you so, so much. And so does Daddy. Now you go back to sleep, my love, and tomorrow – “

“Tomorrow – “

Derek interjected. “There will be pancakes waiting for you in the kitchen. And a few little extra things. But _only_ if you go right back to sleep. Okay?”

Maisie gave them a beaming smile.

“Happy birthday to me!” she said with a piddling giggle that was just too cute. Derek would say she got the flare for dramatics from her, but she was the one to jokingly call it an even split.

“Do you want me to sing you a little something to help you sleep, birthday girl?” Derek asked her, knowing already that the answer would be a resounding yes.

He didn’t sing for many people, but for the two leading women in his life, he’s told her he makes an exception. Her husband had written their daughter the stupidest, cutest, dumbest, most adorable little song for her third birthday. He’d figured that Addison just loved hers _so much_ – a stretch, she actually cringed whenever he tried to sing it to her now, that Maisie deserved one of her own, too.

_“Maisie, Maisie, baby. Daddy’s little lady. When I see your sweet, toothy smile, my heart melts for miles, and when I look into those blue, blue eyes, like the Grinch, my heart grows three times its size, and I think, oh, my beautiful, little Maisie Moo, I couldn’t bare to live without you!”_

Without the guitar as a background, his voice didn’t sound as young but the rumbled quality it had to it now made her palms sweat and her own damn heart _melt for miles._ Derek cleared his throat and placed a gentle kiss to their daughter’s head, and he heard him softly inhale before he drew back from her and stood up.

When he turned to look at her she could see, even in the dark, that his eyes were a cobalt blue – lust. He grabbed her hips and held them tightly, propelling her out the door of their toddler’s bedroom and into the hallway.

Once there, he leaned in close – too close – and breathed in. “Why did you use your shampoo during Maisie’s bath tonight?”

A simple question deserved a simple answer, but somehow she had a feeling that it really was not all that simple. “Because we ran out of that no-tears stuff. What’s the big deal?”

He gave her one of his canary grins. “The big deal, Addie, is that you _know_ what that stupid shampoo does to me. Don’t you?”

“Oh god. Derek, you cannot be serious. I feel dirty.”

He chuckled. “Then don’t, baby. Don’t feel dirty. Forget about Maisie. It’s _your_ shampoo. _Your_ hair. My fingers…”

Derek carded his fingers through her hair and then began to kiss her neck. And Addison did something she hasn’t done in a long time because it felt too teenagerly. She pushed him back against the wall and wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck.

He was quick to pick her up and then they were walking, and then _running_ down the hall and she was laughing as quietly as she could and when he threw her down onto the couch it was like he couldn’t get to her fast enough. She felt like she was in her twenties again and it seemed like her husband was in his prime tonight, too.

It was a _happy new year_ indeed.

...


End file.
